


The Nights Ahead Will be All But Dark

by shm00mzz



Series: Leopika Family Brainrot [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Gen, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Not Beta Read, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trans Male Character, Trans Pregnancy, baby fic baby fic baby fic, fan baby, freddie be like i hate children proceeds to cry over leopika family, therapy is expensive writing leopika baby content is free, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:15:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28664556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shm00mzz/pseuds/shm00mzz
Summary: "The name they had settled on was Piero."
Relationships: Kurapika & Leorio Paladiknight, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: Leopika Family Brainrot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2167689
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33





	The Nights Ahead Will be All But Dark

**Author's Note:**

> BABY FIC MOMENCE. AASKDFHkasEFSJKDJKFSAKFG
> 
> scarlet by erigeron be living in my brain rn and i am brainrotting extremely hard. simply steals the name piero bc its perfect  
> also masterfinland aka GOD released a leopika baby birth fic right after i drafted this and i screamed and shit and passed away and died in a good way and i am not proud of this anymore but take it.
> 
> they/them for krpk, general warning for birth n post birth stuff. 
> 
> ty fin n ghost for being rad as hell ilysm/p

The name they had settled on was Piero.

Two great losses that set dreams and desires and aspirations into motion, bringing two young people crashing into each other’s lives like asteroids to earth, forever changing all that they touched.

Two names, two stories, two lovers, and a brand new, tiny life brought into the world with heart wrenching cries and little breaths of a bright new world. Everything about it was imperfect and beautiful, and neither of the new parents thought it possible to feel love like this.

Piero was a baby boy, above average in size and weight, yet so impossibly small. He’d been born at home, delivered by a midwife with the help of his own anxious father, shrieking and wet and wonderful from the moment he’d been laid against Kurapika’s bare chest.

In Kurapika’s arms, lithe and scarred and bearers of impossible burden, rested a newborn baby, still blotchy and a bit unclean from delivery. Piero was so, _so_ tiny, wrinkled and sniffly and squirming against his weeping parent as he stretched for the first time, still bawling, still beautiful. His uneven breaths, grunts and hiccups and the way he’d squirm to make himself comfortable played lullabies on their heartstrings that brought forth tears sodden with memories, hopes, dreams, and fears, leaving them to weep joyously without shame, without hurt, for the first time in what felt like years. 

Kurapika was running on empty from nineteen total hours of labor and the pain of delivery, the hysterical tears upon meeting their son after carrying him for nine long months. They couldn’t let themself sleep, eyes pried open by the sheer wonder. As Piero was cleaned and checked, Leorio abandoned his position assisting the midwife to shower his spouse, nearly naked and sweaty and exhausted, with kisses, touches and endless praise. They sit together on the queen sized bed, practically a nest built for Kurapika’s comfort after delivery, and every 

The baby is returned to his parents minutes later, partially wrapped in a hand woven, ribboned blanket that Kurapika had made early in their pregnancy, his name inscripted in the Kurta’s lost language. He was healthy, clean and dry, making fussy noises that settled slightly when his chubby cheek was pressed against bare skin. He rooted, he rested, he was handed to Leorio and cradled reverently.

Every crease of skin on Piero’s towel-cleaned and puffy body was flawless and beautiful. His dusting of fine dark hair was silken to the touch, long lashes on eyelids that were squeezed shut, his flat little nose, small lips, earlobes attached to his neck, the same as Leorio. His hands were tiny, toes even tinier, all wrinkled and pink despite the tawny shade of his skin. Even after planning for his arrival over the better part of a year, it was still shocking to hold a newborn and attempt to comprehend it to be your own.

Leorio had feigned composure during delivery and for the first hour of Piero’s life, but he truly fell apart when his tiny eyes fluttered open for the very first time, resting in his arms. Dark grey with a promise to mirror the deep hazel and rich brown splendor of his parents, he gazed around unfocused and amazed by light and shape and color never before conceived in his mind. 

Leorio cried, lending no effort to quell his tears, lamenting his love for the baby over and over and over until he thought his lungs would burst from the swell of joy and pride in his chest, pressing their cheeks together, listening to his heartbeat, cooing as Piero fell asleep. Kurapika inevitably grew far too tired and slipped into rest as well, leaving their husband with the newborn. He didn’t mind at all. Leorio’s mind ran in circles and stumbled and snagged on every detail of the world he now faced. His son,  _ ‘my son,’  _ he thought, marveling that Piero was a living thing that he had helped to create, that he would raise a child with Kurapika, that this was  _ real,  _ and he couldn’t be dreaming because the weight in his arms and the warmth of Piero’s skin against him wracked his brain harder than any fantasy could. 

There were no words to describe the wonder, the thrill, the  _ love _ that he felt. Leorio kissed his soft and tiny forehead, again left marveling at this little human being that he cradled now in his arms. With one arm growing tired, he gently shifts Piero’s weight from one side to the other. He squirms, making a gurgled ‘heh’ sound, dimples gathering on his chin, and his eyes open up again, and he cries.

Leorio’s eyes snap wide open, expression fearful. His heart of gold and deep seated desire to heal would take some time to adjust to the fact that  _ babies cry,  _ and he looks around frantically to see his sleeping spouse, the midwife not present in the room, and no clear idea of what to do. Piero had cried once before this, and of course during his birth. He was startled, woken up and hungry, that was all, and Kurapika nursed him, rocked him gently with light, soothing caresses that first,  _ second  _ time he cried.

The sound is sweet and heartbreaking, tiny arms with tight and helpless fists flailing around as he wailed pitifully into the warm air. He sounded so scared, so hurt, like he’d just lost everything before he was even a day old, Leorio choking up as he swayed Piero gently in his arms in an attempt to soothe him. His voice was high and cracking, breaking and straining with each cry, and he kicked his legs within the blanket wrapped around him.

Leorio held his son against his chest, patting his little head and stroking any skin he could touch, he was still sticky behind his ears and his sobs became more breathy as he was swayed back and forth. Leorio felt drool against his shirt and shifted Piero again, just a bit this time and chuckled, teary eyed, upon hearing a tiny hiccup. In the panic and heartache that came from a crying baby, there was something truly magical about soothing one, the new father counting his blessings on short, feathery little eyelashes that were still squeezed together tightly at the folds of tearless eyes. With the calming of the newborn, Leorio popped one shoulder and took a deep breath, nose pressed against Piero’s head.

He smelled sweet, almost sickeningly so, hints of linen and summer and what could only be described as ‘new baby smell.’ It was beyond intoxicating, mesmerizing, as if he needed any  _ more  _ reasons to have his parents fall for him, everything about the day they’d had, the days ahead, were special in a way that only they could know. Leorio turns his head to stifle a sob, turns to breathe in against the baby’s hair, and shudders with the weight of all of these feelings. Mindlessly, lovingly, he forces the lingering cries from his throat with a hum, and feels Piero settle deeper against him. 

He thinks for a moment, glancing at Kurapika, still sleeping on the bed, and loosens his hand so he can see his son’s face. Piero is calmed, but clearly fussy, and he looks up at his father with those same huge eyes that’d brought him to tears earlier in the evening. He makes a little ‘owh’ sound that precedes a big yawn, looking around lazily as soon as his eyes had opened again, fists now against his cheeks. Leorio beams and calls him a ‘sleepy little fella,’ and holds him against his chest once more. It was no wonder Kurapika cried the way they had, and for so long. Whatever he felt in this moment, he couldn’t  _ imagine  _ the intensity of his spouse’s emotions after carrying this little miracle for so long, witnessing the growth from a perspective nobody else had. “Respect” had no meaning, no weight when held to the way Leorio thought of his spouse.

Leorio sways slightly, hearing,  _ feeling  _ another yawn, and he strokes Piero’s back, beginning to mindlessly hum. The vibrations of a deep voice comforted the newborn, and again, he melts into the shape of his father’s cradling hold on him. Leorio hums battered renditions of songs he thought of fondly, fragments of the orchestral arrangement Kurapika liked to listen to when they were stressed, and the song they’d played for the first dance at their tiny outdoor wedding, strained through a tightening throat as the memories flocked unkindly to bring forth joyous tears. He didn’t catch when Piero fell asleep, but he’d gone limp and peaceful, grunting and drooling against Leorio’s shirt.

He takes care in laying his brand new son in the little cot that’d been prepared, being sure he was laid on his back with his face upward, supported on both sides of his head, and tucked nicely. Piero makes a tiny sound of comfort, and it’s only a few minutes before Leorio is passed out in an armchair. The night carries on without incident, Piero kicks and waves his arms about in his sleep, all is quiet aside from Leorio’s snores and the baby’s grunts, the hum of the humidifier acting as white noise. They’re all sleeping apart, but they’re together. That’s what matters most.

———

Kurapika awakens in the mid-afternoon with sharp cramps and deep aches all over, a particularly strong knot of muscle just beside their neck, and a stabbing headache. Unsurprising, really, but no less irritating. Their hips, thighs and lower torso feel like wet dough beat against a counter, every tendon strained, every muscle pulled to the breaking point. They’ll need some tea- willow bark- and a year's worth of over-the-counter painkillers, but that’s to worry about later. Leorio is already awake and has pulled up a chair to stare at Piero in his cot with a truly enamored expression, cooing and gently touching him, and he grunts in reply.

Kurapika speaks his name and Leorio bounds over without a second thought, stumbling, crashing down with an embrace that knocks Kurapika’s aching bones unkindly, but they dont mind it, slumping into his clumsy grip with ease. Their ringing ears hardly picked up Leorio’s jabbering, but they whispered slurred sentiments back nonetheless.

There’s an interruption, a high pitched ‘neh’ sound from across the room, then a whimper, then a wail. Heads spin to the cot instantly, Leorio promptly insisting that Kurapika stay put, hurrying to retrieve Piero and bring him to Kurapika without bringing harm in his haste. He arches away from Leorio’s touch, arms covering his face and legs kicking angrily. Babies cry, babies cry a lot. This was going to take some getting used to. 

After falling victim to Piero’s thrashing, Leorio hands him to his parent, who shudders and asks for a glass of water. The father gives a tired thumbs up and makes his way out, Piero now cradled in bedsheets and still shrieking. He’s an active little thing, wiggling and waving and making good use of the space he now had to stretch into, it was a shame that in that moment, he was seemingly making an attempt to beat Kurapika into submission. His little legs folded up together and kicked out, shaking his body, it was almost a sort of dance, one that needed to end, because his parent’s aching head couldn’t take much more of the noise in that moment.

With swift, gentle movements, Kurapika pulls up their shirt- Leorio’s, actually- and presses the angry baby to their chest. He quiets and presses his face against the skin, little breathy sounds squeaking out as he mouths against them, searching and rooting. After a few moments of squirming and butting his head into Kurapika’s tender chest, he finds what he’s looking for and latches on, patting his little hands against them as he nurses and grows quiet. Leorio returns with water, paired with harmless pain medicine, and sits at the foot of the bed, watching in veneration.

Piero finishes nursing, not without spitting up a few times, and Kurapika has laid a thin cloth under their shirt to catch any leaks, shifting on the bed before they gave Leorio the all-clear to join them under the covers and coddle their son together. Nothing else exists now, just three hearts, three pairs of hands, three precious lives in love with the moment. Piero looks around, his parents follow his lead, mirroring the wave of his arms and melting when he looked to them as they spoke. Irreplaceable, even among Kurapika’s immense physical pain, Leorio’s stress, and Piero’s ignorance, there was nowhere they’d rather be. 

Through the months upon months of Kurapika’s changing body, raging hormones, sleepless nights and frequent outbursts, after long stretches of planning for every little thing, each struggle was beyond worth it. To feel Piero’s soft skin and the warmth of his little body and see the tiny rise and fall of each breath, they would’ve paid any price to have this, and they’d seemingly struck a bargain with all good spirits. There were certainly concerns to be voiced and long discussions to be had, as parenthood was no small feat, but they had no place in this moment. This was for the brand new family, warm and joyous and careless of the challenges ahead. For Kurapika and Leorio and Piero, and for all those loved and lost along the way.

Piero grows tired once more, curling up and stretching in slowing rhythms, legs folded up and arms resting on his chest. There is legal and technical work to be done, Leorio volunteering to take care of it, Kurapika informing him that they had delivered the baby, and everything else was his responsibility, only half joking. Piero is laid so he can see the bathroom door, Leorio helps his spouse waddle to the bathroom and back through their immense pain, ducking out of the room. Kurapika cradles Piero again, one hand on his tummy.

When he grasps their finger in his soft little hand, Kurapika is floored. This is light and hope and things they thought impossible for so long, and they silently thank their clan now laid to rest, and each spirit of the world for bringing them these moments, letting them reap what they’d sown, and be filled by the sweet fruits of their labor.

Kurapika, once devoured and consumed by hatred, had finally let their withered heart bear sunlight once more. In the time since completing their quest, since finding a home in the man they would marry, they’d gone from a frozen wasteland to a blissful field that bore tall grasses and wildflowers and shone orange in the sunrise. Eyes that burned scarlet with rage now radiated a rosy tone fueled by joy and overwhelming love. They never dared to dream a life, a moment like this for themselves, but after hiking overencumbered for years, they’d made it. A life they once expected to be thrown away for the sake of revenge had been ignited with hope, it had found a home and built itself taller from the rugged foundation laid by their journey.

  
  


After a lifetime of loss and hurt and emptiness, of silence and loneliness, Kurapika was home, and truly,  _ finally  _ happy.

Piero yawns and grasps their finger tighter, and Kurapika closes their eyes so they may open them up to greet the days to come, unafraid.

**Author's Note:**

> swag. im gonna write a third part to this silly little self indulgent thing and talk abt Parent Fears[TM] and inherited trauma i just wanna do it right so lets hope i actually work on that.
> 
> kudos/comments appreciated!!!!!!!! have a lovely day wtf happie 2021


End file.
